


Vice Vice Versa

by tablelamp



Category: John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme
Genre: Bad Puns, Gen, Good puns, Humor, Non sequiturs, Ridiculousness, Wordplay, just a lot of puns in general, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablelamp/pseuds/tablelamp
Summary: Well!  Since you ask me for a story involving mysterious statues...





	Vice Vice Versa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calliatra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliatra/gifts).



Well! Since you ask me for a story involving mysterious statues, I do happen to have a little tail up my sleeve. And once I remove this mouse from my jacket, I shall tell you a story about a mysterious pair of statues.

It all began some minutes ago. The chaps at my club and I were in the midst of a game of Ear Yodel. You may think this sounds like a simple pastime, but don't be fooled. It's very difficult to yodel out of one's ears. In fact, we were some hours into Ear Yodel and had managed to produce exactly no yodeling sounds, although Blenkinsop had somehow managed a creditable saxophone solo. Still, we continued.

Suddenly, my attempt at a yodel was cut short by a gentleman who stumbled into the club, holding a small statue of a terrier in each hand. His eyes were wild, his clothes were wild, his hair was wild, and his terriers were domesticated because that's how terriers are. He approached me.

"Sir," he said, "my name is Thomas Guthrie, and I beg of you to take these statues from me."

"Why, certainly," I said, divesting him of his statues at the first available opportunity. Which was immediately.

Guthrie frowned. "You don't wish to know why I want to give them away so urgently?"

"No," I said. If Guthrie wished to immediately rid himself of dog-shaped statuary, he must no doubt have had a compelling reason for it. Perhaps he disliked dogs. Perhaps he disliked statues. Perhaps he disliked both statues shaped like dogs and dogs shaped like statues. I myself was once very put off by a Great Dane shaped like Nelson's Column.

"But you must be curious if I tell you that the statues have certain mystical powers?"

"Ah," said I. "Mystical powers. How very...mystical of them." I had always rather overestimated my ability with synonyms.

"Do you mean to say that you have no interest in the fact that these statues, sir, these statues can utterly transport the mind of one human being into the body of another, while transporting the mind of the second person into the body of the first?"

"By Jove!" I said. "Do you mean to tell me that these statues can move the mind of a person into the body of a person that mind belongs to?"

Guthrie was beginning to look perplexed. "No. I'm telling you these statues can move the mind of a person into the body of a person that mind does not belong to."

"Well, that sounds rather inconvenient."

"It IS inconvenient! That's why I'm getting rid of the statues." Guthrie paused. "You must be wary of them, sir. Treat them carefully and avoid their strange powers."

"Righto," I said. What strange powers these strange statues had I must never know, although they were undoubtedly...strange. (I told you I was bad with synonyms.)

"And you must never, by any means, say, 'I wish that I were...'" And he pointed to me.

"I must never say, 'I wish that I were'?"

He pointed to me again. I looked down to see if there was a spot on my necktie, but not only was there no spot, there was no necktie. I had taken it off to more capably play Ear Yodel. "I don't follow, old man."

"For pity's sake, can't you see what I'm trying to do?" he said. "I'm trying to avoid saying, 'I wish that I were you!'"

Just then, a cloud of smoke filled the room! Naturally I assumed Blenkinsop had moved on to Ear Smoking without telling the rest of us, but when the smoke cleared, I found myself across the room, staring at...myself.

Myself did not seem pleased. "Oh, dash it all," he said, rubbing his temples.

"Hullo," I said cautiously. "Are there two of me now?"

"We have activated the mystical powers of the statues," Myself said hopelessly. "Take a look at yourself."

I peered at Myself more intently.

"No, no," Myself said. "I mean look down. Look at your hands, your arms."

I did as Myself had asked. 

"Do you notice any differences?" Myself asked.

"Yes," I said. "Someone has given me Guthrie's jacket."

"And his body," Myself said.

"No, no. I'm pretty sure it's just his jacket. It's very comfortable though. Do you know, I've always wanted to sing a duet with myself. I think we could manage it now."

"Sing a duet? We've just swapped bodies; there's no time to--what song did you have in mind?"

“Well,” I said, “since you ask me what song I have in mind...oh dear. I can't think of one at the moment.” This was an unexpected catastrophe. My narrative capabilities had never failed me before. This seemed to be rather an emergency, and yet my life absolutely failed to flash before my eyes. Where should I go? What should I do? What was to become of me? And more importantly, how would I tell endless stories about any of it? My mind Boggled. Then it Big Boggled, and just for good measure, it Cluedoed.

"It doesn't matter," Myself said, looking morose. I hadn't realised that, until that moment, he'd been less ose. "We'll be stuck this way for a while. There'll be time."

"True, true. There's always time. Well, until there isn't any time, and in that case, there isn't enough time to notice there isn't any time."

Myself stared at me. "I shall be very glad when things return to normal."

"Oh, don't say that. Think what fun we shall have! We can pretend to be each other and no one will be the wiser!"

"Everyone will be the wiser, because you look nothing like me!"

"Whatever makes you feel better about yourself," I said, "which is also myself." I was beginning to think that Myself and I didn't get on very well. "I am beginning to think that you and I don't get on very well."

Myself sighed. "I wouldn't say that. It's just difficult going through life in someone else's shoes."

I stared at my feet. "Great Scott! You're right--I hadn't even noticed! They gave me Guthrie's shoes as well! And to think all this happened in the midst of a cloud of smoke after you said, 'I wish that I were you!'"

One would almost think the cloud of smoke could respond to its own name, for the moment that I finished my sentence, it was back, filling the room once more. When the smoke dissipated, I was now in the chair that Myself had been in, and Myself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Guthrie sat opposite me.

"Oh, hello, Guthrie," I said. "Where have you come from?"

Guthrie leapt to his feet. If he'd leapt much further, he would've leapt all the way to mine. He turned quickly and hurried out the door of the club without so much as a by-your-leave, a bicarbonate of soda, or even a bicycle. In fact, all this happened just before you came in this evening, and these are the very terrier statues Guthrie brought me. I can tell you've been admiring them. You're fortunate to be seeing them for the first time--how I wish that I were you!

*Whoosh! Cough cough*

Goodnight!


End file.
